


To Go To Sunday Dinner

by MusicalFangirl00193



Series: National Days [43]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: For Sherlock Holmes Weekend, Gen, M/M, Most of the ships are implied, and the majority of this is gen, but i felt like tagging, can you tell i'm procrastinating my homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalFangirl00193/pseuds/MusicalFangirl00193
Summary: The life of Hamish Watson-Holmes





	To Go To Sunday Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> You must first live your whole life
> 
> Title is a bastardization of a quote that I only half remember about apple pie

Hamish Watson-Holmes is lucky to be alive. He knows this nearly from his first breath, taken while his father is on the run, taking down James Moriarty's spider web of criminal connections. There isn’t much he can do, but Hamish is born healthy, and that’s all that matters for now.

He is the oldest of his generation, other than Lucy and Logan, but Logan doesn’t count because he’s always with his mum rather than Uncle Greg. 

“We’ll be alright,” Sherlock murmurs to the infant, quiet in a way that would unnerve Sherlock if he couldn’t feel his small chest moving up and down. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, Hamish?”

* * *

Hamish meets the rest of his family when he’s two years old, his father deciding that the middle of Lucy’s tenth birthday at Angelo’s is the best place to make his continued survival known.

“Da,” he clings tightly to Sherlock’s hand, not comfortable around so many people after having spent all of his life so far on the run. “Why are we here?”

“We’re going home, Hamish,” Sherlock stops when they reach the end of the street that Angelo’s restaurant is on, “We’re going to meet your Poppa, you remember, I’ve told you about him.”

Hamish nods. “Da, I’m scared.”

“It’s alright Hamish,” Sherlock kneels in front of him. “I’m scared too.”

“You’re never scared Da,” Hamish shakes his head. “Never ever.”

“Everyone’s scared of something Mish,” Sherlock says, pressing a kiss to the top of Hamish’s curly head. “Now come on, Poppa’s been waiting to meet you for far too long.”

Hamish takes Sherlock’s hand again and follows his father into the restaurant.

* * *

Hamish is seven years old when he meets his best friend, the biggest trouble magnet he’s ever met in his life and, apparently, the son of his father’s arch enemy. The one who isn’t Uncle Mycroft.

When they find out who each other’s parents are, both boys avoid each other for a week before they end up in the situation that so closely mimics the first time they met that all they have to do is meet each other’s eyes before they both burst out laughing. 

“Hamish,” Harry declares, once they’ve both calmed enough to speak again. “Our parents are idiots.”

“You’re right,” Hamish agrees with a nod, holding out his hand. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

* * *

Mrs. Hudson dies when Hamish is eight. He misses school for a solid week afterward, and he doesn’t leave his room until Harry shows up and drags him out. 

“Bugger off,” Hamish grumbles as Harry pulls him down the stairs to the living room.

“Nope,” Harry says cheerfully. “You’re rank, you need to shower, and you’ve probably not eaten in a week either.”

Hamish glares as Harry pushes him into the bathroom, but he isn’t wrong, so he takes a quick shower and emerges to find Harry glaring at the entire kitchen in disgust. “Da’s going to be pissed if you light his microscope on fire with just your eyes.”

“How is it possible that there’s absolutely no food in this kitchen?”

“Any food that’s kept in here is immediately a biohazard,” Hamish shrugs, it’d had been like that since long before he was born. “Come on, I’ll show you the actual kitchen.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, but follows Hamish into what had once been a separate flat, but had long since been bought by the Watson-Holmes and been added to the first via knocking out the connecting wall. “This is the actual kitchen, it’s not used very much.”

“You lot order too much take away,” Harry sniffs, poking around the kitchen. “Sit, I’m making you some proper food.”

“You know how to cook?” Hamish snorts, sitting at the kitchen table, watching Harry flit around the kitchen.

“I’m very good at it,” he retorts. “But I don’t think you’re up for anything fancy, just some toast and eggs, I think.”

Hamish doesn’t say anything else, watching Harry as he’s slowly joined by his entire family.

“You’ve multiplied,” Harry says drily, passing plates of food to everyone before taking one for himself and sitting next to Hamish.

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” Hamish murmurs when he’s finished with his food.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Please.”

Harry nods. “I’ll spend the night, easier than coming back again tomorrow.”

Hamish nods as well, before helping Harry clean up the kitchen while everyone else finishes their food.

* * *

Hamish, much to the dismay of his uncles, doesn’t end up joining MI6, nor does he go into any of the careers his parents thought he would go into.

Instead, he becomes a hacker, later being recruited by an agency he’d never heard of before called Kingsman, along with Harry. Hamish ends up becoming a handler by the codename of Merlin, which amuses him to no end, especially when Morgana later joins the organization with the codename of Morgana.

* * *

Years later, after Hamish has to force himself to remember to respond to his given name rather than his code name, he meets a young man who makes Harry go starry-eyed in his mere presence and the young man’s, Eggsy’s, best friend who makes Hamish himself go starry-eyed, much to Morgana’s amusement.

“You should follow your own advice,” Morgana advises him one day when he’s complaining to her about how hopeless Harry is with Eggsy. “Just go ask Roxy out. She’s just as desperate for you as Eggsy is for Harry.”

Hamish glares and returns to his work to the soundtrack of his cousin laughing at him.

* * *

This is a perfectly fine plan. Until his uncle kidnaps Roxy in much the same way he did Eggsy.

“Uncle Mycroft,” he sighs. “Must you kidnap everyone any of us show the slightest hint of interest in?”

“It is my prerogative, Hamish,” Mycroft informs him primly. “Ms. Morton is a wonderful young lady, she quite enjoyed the story of when you and Harry met. I was thinking of telling her about your reaction to Hayley’s birth next. Unless you come join us?”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hamish says, face going white immediately.

“Make it fifteen.”

* * *

“Your family is amazing Mish,” Roxy says when Mycroft finally lets them go late in the evening. “How come you haven’t introduced us yet?”

“Because Uncle Myc is one of the saner members of my family,” Hamish snorts. “I suppose you’ll learn that for yourself soon enough though.”

“Sunday dinner, right?”

“Pop’s orders,” Hamish groans.

“It’s only fair,” Roxy counters. “You’ve met my family.”

“Yes, but I also have siblings and cousins.”

“Too bad,” Roxy is far too cheerful for someone who’s just been sentenced to what amounts to the firing squad of romance. “Cheer up, it’ll be fun.”

* * *

“That was fun.”

“My parents won’t be able to live in their flat for at least a month due to repairs.”

“How come you and Harry are such good friends if your das hate each other so much?” Roxy asks, shaking debris out of her hair.

“Spite and seven-year-old stubbornness. In all fairness, I didn’t know Uncle Jim was going to show up tonight.”

“I enjoyed myself.”

“You would,” Hamish smiles as he presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “Adrenaline junkie. Go shower, you’ve still got drywall in your hair.”

Roxy goes and Hamish leans against the kitchen counter with a smile. Tonight actually hadn’t been that big a mess, for Sunday dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not British, and I don't own any of these fandoms. 
> 
> I spent an inordinate amount of the writing time on this sorting out children of Johnlock, Mystrade, and 00Q, so ask me about them if you want.


End file.
